


Small Talks

by Mystic_Harley



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Brief character study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Selfcest Handholding, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 09:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Harley/pseuds/Mystic_Harley
Summary: Waiting in a pub, all by himself, The Doctor was content wallowing in his misery. Until The Doctor walked in to change that.





	Small Talks

The Doctor sat quietly on the bench, nursing a nearly full tankard of booze. Occasionally, he’d glance at the door as if expecting someone to walk through it, before he looked down again and took a small sip. He shuddered a little. ‘Disgusting.’ He thought to himself. This 1909 pub in Wales just didn’t have good booze.  
  
The door opened, and he looked up to see a man wearing a blue suit with a brown overcoat. Not Rose. He looked back down at his drink, only to snap his head up again as the man walked over and sat right down next to him, waving the bartender over for a drink.   
  
He leaned against the counter and gave a smile full of teeth at The Doctor. “Hello, fancy jacket you have on there.” He peered down a little to examine it, and The Doctor leaned away. “Leather,” He continued, as if he wasn’t bothered by invading The Doctor’s personal space. “Not exactly fitting with the other patrons here. Leather jacket seems awfully out of place doesn’t it?”   
  
The Doctor glared at the chattering man. “You’re not exactly bursting with subtlety yourself. I don’t recall a suit like yours with that jacket being ‘in’ right now.” The Doctor leaned back, glancing at the man’s shoes. The man proudly stuck them out. “And you’re wearing sneakers, definitely not from the early 1900s.”  
  
“Nope.” The man agreed, popping the P and taking a sip of his drink, which he nearly spat out and sitting the tankard down. “Eugh, still disgusting.”  
  
“Who are you?” The Doctor asked sharply, unwilling to play games. The other man shrugged, his eyebrows raising at the Doctor.  
  
“Just a concerned citizen is all. You looked like you could use a friend.”  
  
The Doctor scoffed. “Yeah, well. I’m waiting on a friend right now actually. And it’s certainly not _you._ Now who are you.”  
  
The man just shrugged again, leaning over the counter and looking at the Doctor. Just looking at him. The Doctor stared back, and his eyes widened a bit. “Oh. _Oh._ ”   
  
“Oh.” The man nodded.   
  
The Doctor frowned at him. “Which one are you then? Must be later, because I don’t recognize you. I would.”   
  
Shaking his head, the other Doctor pushed his drink away, and sat back up. “Can’t tell you that. I’m not here for me, I’m here for you, Doctor.”  
  
The Doctor scoffed, shaking his head. It felt…surreal, to be called Doctor by himself. It felt wrong and right at the same time. Validation for something he thought he shouldn’t get, and something he wanted more than anything else right now. The man leaned over, his eyes more intense now. “You still don’t think you should be called that.”  
  
“And why should I? After everything that happened?” The Doctor snorted bitterly, slumping against the bar. “After everything I did? I don’t deserve to be The Doctor still. I’m just a sad, pathetic man who’s- “  
  
"Don't." The other man interrupted, taking the Doctor's hand in his own rough one. His hands were smoother than his own, something the Doctor noted as he looked up and saw nothing but compassion and sadness in his eyes. "Don't you ever say that about yourself. You're _brilliant,_ I would even call you _fantastic_ , even.   
  
The Doctor snorted a little and looked away. "I didn't think that I'd turn into such a soft-hearted fool."  
  
The other Doctor shrugged, his hand not leaving its spot. "You're not so rough you know. Not deep down of course. You have a lot fresher of pain than I do, but _you're_ The Doctor, and the Doctor is someone who's never anything but caring and soft-hearted and foolish."  
  
His hearts began hurting. He could feel tears burning at his eyes, but he blinked them away and shook his head. He didn’t deserve this sort of kindness, after all that he’d done, how could he? How could Rose think him so wonderful when he was something much, much worse? “Why are you here?” He asked in a low voice, coming across colder than he meant to be.   
  
The other Doctor tilted his head quizzically. “Well, I was in the area, remembered you were here, thought I’d stop bye and-“   
  
“Don’t play stupid with me.” The Doctor said harshly. “Why are you here? Because you remember being me, sitting here and looking miserable and seeing yourself here? Or are you here because you genuinely thought you’re being kind?”  
  
“Why can’t it be both?”  
  
The Doctor glared again. “Answer me.”  
  
The other Doctor hummed, squeezing the Doctor’s hand softly. “It is a bit of both. Partly, small part really, because I only remember bits and pieces of it of course, is that I must be here. Of course, with how much I remember it could’ve been anyone really, but I know enough that I have to be here. BUT,” He said, holding up a finger to stop the Doctor from interrupting. “I’m also here mainly because I want to be. Because I see someone who looks miserable and could use a small pick me up. Just so happens that someone is…well…me.”   
  
The other Doctor squeezed his hand again. “And you Doctor, are going to live up to your name in every way you can think of. You are going to be a _fantastic_ Doctor. And don’t let anyone else tell you differently, alright?”   
  
The Doctor nodded, looking down at their joined hands. “Thank you.” He murmured quietly. The other Doctor grinned at him widely, before the door burst open and Rose stumbled in, snow billowing in the pub.  
  
“Doctor! They’re here!”   
  
Jumping up, the Doctor gave his future self a wide smile. “That’s my cue! Got to go now, nice meeting me.” He wrung the other Doctor’s hand and waved as he moved over to Rose. “Lead the way Rose Tyler!”   
  
The other Doctor smiled fondly, watching them go as the door closed. Things in the pub seemed to be settling down, until the door burst open again. “OI! SPACEMAN!”  
  
The Doctor blinked and looked at Donna in confusion. “Donna? I thought you were out looking around?” He stood up, walking over to his companion and frowning in confusion as he noted her heavy breathing.  
  
“I was, yeah? Minding my own business and doing a bit of window shopping, but all of a sudden this big silver men start stomping about saying they’re going to delete me!”   
  
The Doctor’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? But the Cybermen aren’t supposed to be here! What are they…” His eyes widened more, and he grabbed Donna’s wrist and began dragging her back outside. “Come on Donna! We have to get those Cybermen out of here!”   
  
“Cybermen?! Who in the bleeding hell are Cybermen!? Doctor? DOCTOR!!” She ran with the Doctor and out into the snow, the pub door swinging shut once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all very much for reading this, I hope you all enjoyed it! Reviews are always appreciated but never required. First Doctor Who story, yaaay.


End file.
